


Unintended

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: And then it got worse, Backstory, Magic, Multi, This started as "how does Toriel feel when she accidentally kills Frisk", War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If she could retain only one thing, from everything she witnessed of the war, it would be the way in which humans fought against even the most inevitable deaths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If she could retain only one thing, from everything she witnessed of the war, it would be the way in which humans fought against even the most inevitable deaths. Each and every one of them thought themselves to invincible. Those warriors, painfully long ago, drank in the sight of their companions perishing and yet told themselves ‘But I will not’. Over and over.

There was always a finality to the death of one of her own kind, where instead humans simply remained where they fell, somehow still reassuring themselves that they could still be saved. Striking down a human was rare enough an occurrence that it remained burned into the memory, every detail poured over obsessively. She’d worn out numerous tales to ever more awed crowds before the end of the war. Looking back, she should have been among those who took no delight in the necessity of death and remained silent, willed it to twist her stomach into knots. 

Like it did when the child, the seventh child, crumpled to the ground.

\---

It wasn’t that magic was like some party trick. If you asked a human, maybe, if you asked a monster they’d teach you everything they could. It was one of those points of pride that didn’t translate too well, it was difficult to explain the concept of magic to a human without explaining the concept of human souls versus monster souls, which was then hard to grasp unless you’d spent enough time in the interim of the two factions to hear both sides. And managing that was complicated enough unless you… well, she wouldn’t know that part. 

What she did know, at least, was that monsters like her had seen their lives change overnight. For most the summons to the borders of their territory came as a shock, perhaps even something to be dreaded. There were no other wars in living memory, the worst conflicts had nearly all been started and quelled within the same day and revolved around insignificant skirmishes far from the reach and concern of most. Some of her kind could perhaps truthfully claim that they cared little for the royal family and their history with the humans, keeping their head low for so long as their way of life was untouched. 

If she really wanted to, Toriel could have done the same. 

The man from the castle arrived early in the evening, while people's thoughts were turning to dinner or bed, and caused little fuss. Her parents welcomed him as they welcomed any royal representative and Toriel fell into the routine all of these ‘checkups’ came to take; seating herself at the cramped table and trying to sneak a glance at his notes while they went through the usual questions and answers. Usually they weren’t concerned about more than her training or what progress she’d been able to make with the little skill her parents had of their own.

“Toriel,” her best guess was that he was a skeleton, somehow. “I believe your parents have explained to you that our kind is at war?”

Toriel looked down at her hands, then back to his notes.

“With humans?”

“Yes, with humans.” he leaned forward, the table creaking under his elbows. In her peripheral vision her parents stepped back. “And I know that you understand how difficult it is for our kind to present a challenge for a single human, let alone many, without utilizing magic.” 

What had she told the others before him? Sometimes they couldn't hide surprise at her progress, even asking for demonstrations to prove she could do what she claimed to be able to. She wasn't sure if she regretted it now.

From behind her came a short exchange between her parents but she couldn't avert her gaze from the royal representative, even when she felt her mother's protective palms on her shoulders.

“She's a child, Lord Thade can't already be so desperate for mages.” her grip tightened momentarily.

“Our King would not send her into the field until she has had extensive training, with luck we might have reached a peace agreement by then. For now, it is in the best interests of our kind that we train and protect Toriel and others with magical talent in the Capital.” a bony finger rested upon a seemingly random note among the others. “You expressed an interest in your daughter becoming a lady-in-waiting, an education in the Capital all but guarantees-”

“I want to go to the Capital.” 

Her mother's hands slipped from her shoulders and within a second she had turned her around, searching Toriel’s expression.

“Darling,” the calm was strained. “I know this sounds exciting, I know we've talked about moving to the Capital, as a family, but decisions like this take time.” 

Her father crossed into her view as her mother spoke, looking first to the ever unmoving skeleton and then to the dim oil lamp hanging above the table. 

“Toriel is tired, we all had a long day.” he made a point of gathering up the mugs and plates from their dinner, in answer to which the royal representative swept his documents together and stowed them inside his cloak. To some extent this diffused the tension that practically radiated from her parents, and whatever about the skeleton demanded her attention had faded. “What you're offering us is generous, but we need time to discuss it, as a family.” 

Their guest put up nothing by way of an objection, and as her mother guided her to her room all she caught from the kitchen was a calm discussion of nearby inns. 

\--- 

Toriel couldn’t sleep.

She’d told herself she wouldn’t be able to sleep, and within an hour it was painfully evident that she couldn’t even keep her eyes closed. Every creak and gust of wind snagged her attention. After a day of training her body ached, dinner was wolfed down and sleep was welcomed. Now her skin prickled with energy and anxiety, a creeping sense of nausea took hold. Through the other wall she could catch her mother's snores, they hadn't risked much more than a brief, whispered exchange after the skeleton left. If they argued, it would be behind far thicker walls. 

With practiced care she eased her weight into her feet, spreading the inevitable creak of the floor thin enough that her parents wouldn't notice. There was no secret order of boards to step on in order to be silent, only the patience that came from knowing the relief she would have upon breathing the night air.

Without her parents bustling past her the house seemed spacious, disregarding the clutter of cooking pots or Toriel's books. Past those hallways the front door was never locked and she slipped outside with no hesitation.

Why anyone would choose the approach of winter in which to declare war was beyond her. The scattered clouds left a sharpness to the chill of the night, in the hours since the sun set the ground had become crunchy with frost. Keeping herself warm was simple magic, yet still the frigid ground stung the soles of her feet when she lingered to climb over the fence. The human wars never seemed to go well in winter either, or at least that was what she’d read. Some monsters thrived in it, but she couldn’t speak for her own kind, neither did being happy about the weather mean anything if supply lines were snowed in - that’d always stood out in her history books as important, while she forgot the rambling sections on troop formations immediately. The King probably knew all this, or at least his advisors did, perhaps she hadn’t learned enough for it to make sense. 

The muddy path took her, occasionally slipping where the pools of slick had managed to freeze, past her parent’s fallow fields. In the summer she adored the colours of the life that burst from them, but when the season for crops ended she and her parents would etch out guidelines for practice with their feet and see how far she could keep a thrown fireball in form, or if she could fill each ring with a sweep of flame. The lines weren’t deep but she found them easily enough with what little light the moon gave. Three rings, the most she’d done with confidence, she hoped the fourth could be drawn the next summer. 

As she stepped into the innermost circle she was reminded of her fatigue and how little progress, if any, she’d been able to make that morning. She didn’t feel so weighed down now, her thoughts drifting to the irresistible offer laid out for her. The first flame was easy, resting in her palm as unwaveringly as a lantern. For fun, she had it flicker and spark like a hearth, something one would only ever do with a stationary ball of fire for the purpose of showing off, her parents would discourage it as much as possible but she thought of the crowds in the capital and the the other mages she could dazzle. The people she could help. 

The motion of throwing the ball of fire had to be done as precisely as a stroke of paint, a finishing blow. Eager tongues of flame licked at her wrist but the perfect, controlled ball darted across the field, past the first ring, the second, wavering, the third. On a whim she willed it to stop, snapping her palm shut into a tight fist, and there it stayed, illuminating the shallow tracks of the third ring. Slowly, she relaxed her fist into an open palm once more and the orb floated back across the icy dirt, settling back in its place. Only up close could someone see the maelstrom of heat and power fighting to escape. One lapse of concentration and she could lose a hand, or at least all of the fur on it. A few times she'd been curious enough to let one smash against a small tree or a patch of grass. The fire consumed them in a ravenous fit.

Her arm twinged with the effort of holding the form so she closed her hand around it and let it fizzle out, waiting until soft smoke poured from between her fingers. With her source of heat gone, she realized she was grinning. Had she ever managed something like that before? Maybe parts of it, but sooner or later something would waiver and the more she tried it again the more frustrated she grew, struggling to grasp this level of ability beyond anything her parents could help her with.

The next thing she knew, she was running; stumbling on the mud road, scrambling over the fence, nearly sprinting through the house and into her parent’s bedroom. Someone would see the footprints all over the floor in the morning and she'd probably get a lecture on sneaking out, but Toriel just needed to wake them up. They had to know. 

“I have to go to the Capital.” she shook her mother's shoulder until she stirred, both parents pausing for a groggy moment before their daughters urgency sat them bolt upright. “I need to go, we can be there by the morning if we set off now!” 

“Tori…” her mother’s speech was still slurred with sleep and her eyes half-lidded, although her nose caught the scent of wet mud and wet - if slightly singed - fur. “My child, where have you been?”

“We could find that man at the inn and get a train right now!” she thought about the Capital once more. She'd poured over her history books so many times that she swore she could walk the streets by memory.

In the darkness, her father pinched the wick of a candle and let it cast a soft glow. 

“He can wait, Toriel.” he said. “the trains do not run until dawn and you need to sleep.”

Reluctantly, but perhaps sensibly, Toriel took a deep breath and tried to convince herself that they were right.

“But… I can go, can't I? In the morning?” 

It worried them, that much was obvious, talk of the Capital always did. The King always did. She took their dream of sending her to court for her education as a way of placating her. Any moment now, she knew one of them would sigh and try to let her down gently, explaining that they still need extra help in the spring or that she had far more to study before she was ready. 

“You need to promise us that you won't get caught up in this war.” her mother finally answered. “The King may need mages, you might think you can change the tide of the war, but it'll end soon, with or without you. Please, Toriel, ignore the war.”

\---

She didn't sleep until the sun began to rise and the tempest in her mind was clouded with fatigue. 

\---

“If we are lucky, we should arrive before dinner.”

Despite her continued anxiety, her parents had insisted on discussing it once more in the morning. Then again as they waited for the royal representative to return, and once more over breakfast. By the time Toriel's things were packed and as many goodbyes were said as possible it was beyond noon and she expected to be cramped and crowded for the entire journey, until the man produced two first class tickets. Still, she used her ample seat space for her books, bound together in a separate bag, one hand resting upon the bundle at all times. They had a table between their seats, which became a sea of notes, letters and dainty cups of tea as they left her home far behind them. In an effort to ignore the ever worsening gnawing of guilt in the pit of her stomach she had tried to read what she could upside down, and pry where possible. 

“Gaster…” she spied the same thing on the spines of most of his books, sometimes in what seemed to be completely different handwriting. Sometimes the faint shapes of symbols were sketched over the letters. 

“Yes, Dr. Gaster,” he continued to read for a few moments. “Did I not introduce myself properly?”

She shook her head, expecting a long story, but he simply looked perplexed for a moment and then returned to his work. 

Toriel let her head rest against the window and waited for the Capital to rise in the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

The novelty of the journey wore off after the third hour of nothing but fields and forests and Gaster’s occasional attempts at conversation. Once exciting, the hiss of steam and wail of the engine ground at her patience, furthermore she became painfully aware of how their carriage rocked back and forth ever so slightly in a way that made reading impossible. Gaster didn’t seem to let it get in the way of his work, but then again skeletons probably didn’t get motion sickness and she didn’t want to ask anyway. 

After some time of her impatiently swinging her legs under the table and pretending she wasn’t a little homesick, Dr Gaster plucked one of his notebooks from a pile and opened it halfway. She recognised her name written on the page and a number of otherwise illegible notes. 

“There are some gaps in your information, how old are you, Toriel?”

“Fourteen.” she replied, with all the defensiveness of someone who insisted fourteen was practically adulthood.

“Ah, the same age as Prince Asgore, were you aware? The King might allow the two of you to train together if your magic is as similar as I believe.”

Prince Asgore… well, that covered the extent of her knowledge. Any celebrations regarding a young heir tended to only really pay attention to their birth, their adulthood, and their coronation. If the local gossip didn’t care about the reason behind the war then the day to day life of the royal family would also be of little interest. Once her parents had cured her dread of a morning training session with tales of the royal history of her kind of magic, and anything else came from her outdated study materials. 

“You know,” Gaster continued, “To train with Prince Asgore would be a tremendous honour, he shows promise of maturing into a Boss Monster, your education may not have covered such a concept-”

“They’re immortal monsters.” she interrupted - pouting at the assumption of her ignorance - to the delight of Gaster. 

“Immortal is one way of putting it… they age only when their children do and hold more power than either of us could dream of, but they are not invincible, just extremely difficult to harm.”

“And royal.” when it came to the most heroic deeds in monster history, from the greatest victories to the most shocking defeats, a Boss Monster was always behind it. Always part of some mythical line of Kings too. 

“Those we can confirm, yes, but I’ve found no reason for it to be unique to the Dreemurr line, my research actually suggests that having three successive generations of heirs maturing as Boss Monsters is such a sheer coincidence that… well, you need not concern yourself with that.”

“Is that why the King declared war this time?”

Gaster met her gaze this time, and if he had a brow it would likely have been furrowed. He almost seemed to glance nervously about, as if their private compartment was the target of some invisible eavesdroppers.

“By ‘that’, you mean the abilities he possesses?” he watched Toriel nod. 

“Because he knows the humans aren’t a threat to him, we aren't defending ourselves this time.” she answered, but her confidence in the theory faltered before she even finished. 

“War is a last resort, especially this one, and neither is this the place to be discussing royal business. With luck, we may be able to resolve the dispute before any more lives are lost.”

Had the fur on the back of her neck not stood up, his words might not have registered as they did. 

“I heard something happened on a diplomatic mission.” she pried. 

“Toriel, I understand your curiosity but it is not my place to discuss it, and if there comes a time where you personally need to be concerned with the details then I am afraid a peaceful resolution will have been abandoned, it isn’t something the world needs to hear.”

“But you’re still taking me to the castle, for training.” she wondered what kind of life she would have within those walls now. Gaster nodded, and she could not decide if she was still excited, or if her nerves had instead given way to dread. 

“If indeed there is anything our King feels you must know, I have no doubts that he will tell you in person.”

Somewhat settled, Toriel relaxed back into her seat, her ears soon picking up on the rattling of the carriage in the absence of their voices. The plush interior - every surface upholstered in more shades of royal purple and gold than she could imagine - should have at least gone some way to muffle the din of the train, but she was acutely aware of everything from the footsteps of the attendants to the voices from neighboring compartments. Somewhere, perhaps even as far as another carriage altogether, she thought she heard the whine of a radio. They had one back in the town hall of the village, as old and temperamental as it was, no doubt there were better and less static models about in the Capital. People probably didn't have to gather with their entire street to catch the occasional King’s speech in all its muffled glory either.

“Ah, wonderful, we should be pulling into the station shortly.” Gaster observed with a quick glance out the window. Toriel was quick to follow his lead, seeing that the forests and fields were giving way to tight clusters of brick houses, paved roads, growing ever taller and ever more packed as they sped by. She forgot about any notion of appearing grown up and sensible in favour of pressing her face against the glass to get a better look. The fur of her cheek was damp with condensation by the time it dawned on her that there was no end to it. Soon she couldn’t be sure if anyone lived in the shadows cast by those towers of brick and stone.

Were they like villages of their own? Did they have a hall hidden away in there? Shops? Craftsmen? As avidly as she studied the history of the Capital, the only lives historians seemed interested in were those inside the castle, occasionally some noble residing in their own lavish mansion. The castle gossip, council meetings and drama seemed so much more familiar than whatever sort of community was supposed to exist outside of it. It was silly, but maybe she’d imagined the bulk of the Capital was just something akin to smaller castle complexes, villages like hers but… a lot more compact. 

Before she knew it she was flat against her seat, barely strangling a yelp before it slipped out. Her ears rang with a metallic screech that she soon recognised as the roar of another train engine, its carriages whistling by the window just inches from where her face had been pressed. It had come from nowhere, she swore it. And she was prepared to swear it to Gaster, expecting him to find her shock hilarious, but as always she couldn’t tell what had inspired that gentle smile of his. 

“They do reach quite the speed, even so shortly after leaving the station.” He commented, starting to tidy away his own belongings, the mess of pages and notebooks all vanishing into the lining of his cloak. She followed his example, re-tying her stack of books with one eye always on the window. The other train had passed. 

“How many other trains are there?” she left one book unbound, A History of the Capital, which remained clutched protectively while the rest were stored away in her small suitcase. Her ears twitched to the muted roar of yet another train passing on their other side, obscured by the thick doors to their compartment. 

“Far too many to count, I’m afraid I haven’t paid any particular attention to the development of the system, you would need to track down an engineer.” he didn’t catch the dejected droop of her ears. Was everyone so… disconnected? She wanted to know every inch of the city intimately, but the enormity of the task became harder to deny with each passing second. A History of the Capital seemed rather less helpful than before. 

The train had barely begun to slow down when it entered the cavernous station, hissing to a complete stop before her eyes had time to adjust to the dim, domed chamber. The sun in its evening descent was still strong enough to cast watery rays through the lattice of glass and steel above them. It might have been peaceful scene if not for the crowds that soon closed in around the train, hundreds upon hundreds of monsters just… going places.

“Toriel, I think it best you follow me closely, a royal escort will be waiting for us.” he explained, and she was content to be guided along in front of him until they stepped out onto the platform, upon which she expected to be plunged into the chaos of the crowds and the noise. 

Only to find that when in the Capital, a royal escort meant that one emerged to come face to face with their own reflection in several jet breastplates. Toriel thought she heard a snicker from behind one of those dark helmets as she backed away abruptly, ready for a moment to retreat back onto the train if not for Gaster discretely stopping her. Monsters still streamed around them but with the widest berth they could afford to give, bumping shoulders with their fellow passengers were certainly more appealing than stepping closer to the royal guard than necessary. 

“Rather more security than I expected…” Gaster observed, before raising his voice somewhat. “Would one of you be so kind as to carry her suitcase?”

“Is this the mage King Thade requested?” the speaker was not quite a head and shoulders above their companions, exaggerated by a helmet of purple plumes. The others, all managing to reach the exact same imposing height and form, refrained from following the request for the moment. The turn of events almost etched a note of surprise into Gaster’s expression, and Toriel wondered if the royal guard were usually more than happy to follow his commands. 

“She is one of them,” he nudged Toriel forward and this time the guard nearest to her endeavoured to take her luggage from her. In their armor-plated hand it looked like a little toy. “I should be able to confirm her identity and abilities to his highness later this evening.”

“King Thade has ordered that all newly recruited mages are presented to him in person upon their arrival.” 

There was an air of hesitation among the group, too little time since the order was passed to develop any coherent protocol. After a moment both Gaster and the head of the guard relaxed enough to lift the mood. 

“Very well. Toriel, please follow the Captain. I will see to having your quarters prepared during your audience with the King.” he assured her. 

With those words she allowed the guards to surround her in tight enough formation that even the slightest glimpse of the Capital was lost behind their plated armor, blocking even the noise and rush of the crowd that parted obediently around them. 

\--- 

The guard with her suitcase didn't seem to notice how the flimsy wooden thing bounced against their metal hip with every other step, thudding distractingly off-beat from the group’s synchronised footsteps. A History of the Capital remained clutched to her chest, unable to yield any useful information even if she was able to open it - between the members of her escort she could see nothing but the tops of the very tallest buildings. Her first proper look at any part of the sprawling city came when the group stopped abruptly, and with a glance upwards she finally recognised the ornate walls and turrets of the castle. Every historian of monsterkind relished the chance to describe the castle. It was familiar, not quite as awe-striking as many books would have you believe, but the weathered stone and shining cobbles were as comforting as the spindly fences and dirt roads of home. 

Except home didn’t have security like the castle did. 

The courtyard into which they marched boasted royal guard patrols at every conceivably strategic spot, standing stoically to attention at every gate and path and window. Even through their helmets she felt all eyes upon her, sizing her up as a threat despite the guards already watching her for the slightest sudden movement. 

As they were ushered through an arched doorway into the heart of the castle, Gaster briefly squeezed her shoulder once again. “I must see to it that a room is prepared for you,” he handed the notebook of her information to the Captain, assuring them that all the documents they needed for now were inside. “If King Thade has any objections, summon me immediately.” and with that he left the group with little objection from the captain, although they prompted half of the escort to accompany him. 

Without warning her vision was obscured by the gauntlet of the guard who still held her suitcase, their arm outstretched and their palm open. Dumbly, Toriel looked from it to her reflection on the guard’s helmet before cluelessly handing over her book, receiving a small nod in return. They, too, left the group and pursued the now distant figure of Gaster down the long passageway. 

Three guards, including the captain, remained to lead her in the opposite direction. Within the castle itself security was thinner, yet still present enough to unnerve her. She found herself missing Gaster’s presence already, his adventures in making small talk were significantly better than the silence that took them through the labyrinthine halls. Her heart leapt whenever they approached a set of doors, or even so much as slowed down for a moment. 

“I thought the Great Hall was further back that way.” she piped up. More precisely, she thought the great hall had been directly in front of them the moment they entered the castle. Beyond that… well, nobody had ever found the rest of the castle interesting enough to describe. Even so, she’d come to expect a hectic, bustling court, or at the very least more than occasional glimpses of a servant before they ducked through a door. 

“It is.” the Captain replied, offering nothing else by way of an explanation. 

“I thought you were taking me to see the King.” not that she was thrilled about the idea of being presented in front a whole hall of staring faces, somehow she kept the relief out of her voice. 

“King Thade is currently in the War Room,” their voice remained clear and coherent through the thick grate of their helmet. “The traditional royal court is dismissed in times of conflict.”

Toriel frowned at the back of the Captain’s head, and if by some supernatural sense they noticed she wouldn’t have been much concerned. 

Her escort didn’t announce the War Room as they approached, but for once it was exactly what she expected. 

Entering from the cold stone and high, vaulted arches of the hallway, she felt a wall of fragrant warmth swept over her, the entire chamber bathed in an inexplicable wealth of sunlight. Blinking, Toriel allowed the ceiling to snatch her attention first. 

It was a dome of painstakingly latticed glass, just as she’d seen at the station, but each pane was polished to a crystalline brilliance. Where the dusky glass of the station was bordered with lead, coils of gold were woven across it like millions of lustrous scales. The light poured down into the oval chamber, illuminating the banners of rich purple that flowed from the lofty dome to pool upon the floor. Wherever the walls were exposed there were tight groups of plush seats and low tables to contain the cozy atmosphere, basking in the heat of the cinnamon-scented fire that crackled in a grand brazier before her. 

But in the centre, his regal form moving between Toriel and the mesmerizing tongues of flame, stood the King. He presided over a table that dominated the room; dark and ancient wood upon which a vibrant and minutely detailed map had been painted. A map of the kingdom. Around it were reports and notes in a disarray that could make Gaster’s books seem flawless. 

King Thade himself hardly held himself like a monarch who found himself at war with a nearly unstoppable race. They were of the same species of monster, but at her most conservative guess he was three times her height without counting his dark mane and magnificent curled horns. Unlike his royal guard his armor was bright as copper, wearing battle damage like ornamentation, shrouded in a cape of the same gold and purple that adorned the rest of the room. Had his attention not been immediately drawn to the newcomers, Toriel might have found any way to keep her distance from him. Instead, she dropped into a stiff and clumsy bow when she noticed her escort doing the same, fixing her gaze upon the floor long after she straightened back up. 

“Your Highness,” the Captain began, “I present Toriel, the Royal Scientist believes she shows great potential as a mage.”

Before she could wonder how much sarcasm that statement was spoken with, an unexpectedly warm chuckle made her jump. 

“And you march the poor thing in here like a criminal?” he rounded the table and approached the small group as he spoke, to the point where Toriel could avoid eye contact no longer. “No wonder she’s shaking.”

For a moment the Captain’s shoulders tensed, but they offered no rebuttal. Thade’s focus and wide grin had since moved onto Toriel herself. He sunk onto one knee, the best attempt that could be made at getting down to her level. “Doctor Gaster has placed a lot of faith in you, my child, you must be quite talented. Have you been settled somewhere comfortable?”

“Your Highness…”

The voice came as a shock to both of them, coming from behind King Thade. His expression didn’t falter as he turned, however, as displeased as the source appeared. 

Like the rest of the guard her armor was matte black, but each ridge and joint of hers was trimmed with gold. Over one shoulder was draped another royal cape, laden with military honours. For a moment Toriel was taken aback by her size. The woman was only slightly taller than herself but held the most intimidating stance she had ever seen. She couldn’t name the race, but recognised the reptilian features thanks to the fact that her helmet rested among the papers on the table in front of her. Her pale yellow scales were as marred as King Thade’s armor. 

“It’s only polite to inquire after my guests, Commander.” The King’s aloofness was unaffected, even as the lizard’s eyes narrowed indignantly at him. 

“Forgive me,” she said with as little remorse as possible, “but we do not have time for this. We cannot leave the legions in the field without knowing what the humans-”

“And we won't, Moziah, we have more than a few minutes to spare.” he assured her, turning back to Toriel with a wave of the hand that silenced any more of Commander Moziah’s concerns. In the moment before King Thade blocked her view, Toriel saw her expression shift into barely controlled frustration. “War can become rather tedious, as you can see.” he said in jest. “You’ve met my son, Asgore, have you not?”

“I haven’t… your Highness.” she added, cheeks burning. King Thade’s brow twitched in surprise.

“It is very unlike the Doctor to leave someone so unfamiliar with my home, didn’t he escort here in person?”

Toriel had time for a nod before Moziah’s voice cut in one more. She let her impatience seep into her tone. 

“I ordered for every long term ‘visitor’ to be brought to you for identification before we allow them free reign of the grounds.” she explained as if reminding him. “You did ask for me to implement tighter security measures, your Highness.” 

“I am aware, Commander, very well then…” he addressed the guard Captain. “In the future, trust Doctor Gaster’s judgement until I say otherwise. See to it that she is settled before dinner, she can begin her studies and training at the first available opportunity.” back to the Commander. “Your Lieutenant, Elspet, they have no other commitments? Perfect, appoint them as her bodyguard effective immediately, there’s no need for additional guards. Now then, child, there is where I must say goodbye for now.” 

She was still shaking, Toriel realized, but she managed another bow and a murmured what she hoped was gratitude before King Thade returned to his position before the grand table. The machinations of the War Room resumed as she was shown once more into the hallway, the warmth and voices muted the moment the door closed behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofread by the lovely grovey.tumblr.com, because my grand ideas of imagery rarely make sense <3

**Author's Note:**

> So the ridiculous amount of ideas I have for this is pretty much thanks to http://roskiiuniverse.tumblr.com and their original characters, Thade and Bellum Dreemurr. You can also blame my soft spot for the goat family to begin with.
> 
> Ratings may change later, as may the content warnings, but do let me know if you think they might be needed.


End file.
